Like Beggars, Like Stars
by RioSensei
Summary: “Leaving something you’ve built your entire life around isn’t an easy thing to consider.” Set after the events of “A Race Through Dark Places”.


Notes: B5 belongs to JMS, Warner Bros. and so forth.

--

Susan pours the whiskey with a surprisingly steady hand, trying not to be over-obvious as she watches Talia Winters settle herself onto a kitchenette chair. She pours the drink into a pair of crystal lowball tumblers, passing one across the counter.

"Thank you for inviting me, Susan," Talia says diplomatically, offering a smile despite her exhaustion; she's been staring at her discarded gloves on the edge of the counter, her Psi Corps badge clearly missing from the collar of her shirt. Susan had insisted they dismiss formalities, her own impulsiveness reacting to Talia's unexpected vulnerability from several days earlier. She doesn't even think of the gesture until Talia's fingers brush her own on the edge of the glass.

"Not a problem, I haven't had a good excuse to make these in ages," Susan dismisses, ignoring her stupid distraction and reaching for her drink. Taking a seat beside Talia, she tries not to suddenly feel so damn anxious; Susan's not used to this sort of thing, especially with someone she's kept at arm's length for so long. The whiskey goes down smooth, mixed with the subtle snap of bitters and a sweet, red vermouth.

Being a commander sometimes has its perks; quality Earth liquors don't come very cheap this far out.

Talia seems to agree and leans back in the tall chair, relaxing. "Do you remember Alisa Beldon?" She asks, stirring the glass in her hand, ice clanking against its edges.

Susan smirks, leans one arm against the counter to turn and face the other woman. "How could I forget your face when she told us she'd accepted Ambassador Delenn's offer," she teases. "She's even sent me a few letters from since then. Why do you ask?"

"I've been thinking recently about the future, my career," Talia says; playing with the dark fabric of her collar. "If there's alternatives out there, even for someone like me; if I'm really honest, Susan, I'm not even sure where the Corps ends and I begin."

"Leaving something you've built your entire life around isn't an easy thing to consider, for anyone," Susan says, watching her. She grips the tumbler tightly, her fingers sliding around the perspiration of the glass.

"I wonder if I have the strength to stand against something like this," Talia confesses, suddenly turning away to gaze at the Russian art-deco lining the wall.

"It's not a decision you need to make alone. I mean, you've made friends here on Babylon Five; don't you think they're willing to support you?" Talia meets her gaze at that, searches Susan's face. As for herself, Susan merely downs the rest of her Manhattan in one fierce swallow, hoping the alcohol pounds away the tight feeling in her chest.

Talia picks up on it, though, and rests a hand against Susan's as she sets aside her glass. Her touch is feather-light, hesitant as if Susan might take offense at it; she wonders if she even has it in her to turn the telepath away. She'd know if the other woman ever tried to enter her mind, steels herself against the possibility and the lingering, well-worn fear.

"There are a lot of things I've come to regret these past few days," Talia says, waiting to see if Susan will brush her aside, maybe expecting it. "Do you suppose, if circumstances might've been different--"

Talia's hand slides away and she hesitates, wondering maybe if she's taken too many liberties with Susan's hospitality. The alcohol could be whittling away her sense, because the Talia she's grown to know is too strong and just--_maddeningly persistent_ to think of something silly like that, when she can barely even convince herself of it anymore.

Susan leans away from her chair and stands. "Talia, the Corps has taken things from both of us, _irreplaceable things_, and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive them for it. But you can't let them just take away who you are without a fight."

Talia looks up at her, hopeful, and it just mangles the rest of her insides. So she ignores it, takes the initiative and does something brave and reckless.

If she's honest with herself, Susan's thought about kissing Talia Winters more than a few times. She moves her hand from the counter, running her fingers along the smooth edge of the telepath's collar, barely brushing the tips of her fingers against Talia's skin. If something dangerous is worth doing, she decides, it's worth doing properly and leans forward to kiss her. And Talia's lips are warm, tentative, parted enough for Susan to taste the cool, sweet flavor of her drink.

Her hand moves across to Talia's neck, resting against the smooth curve of her jaw, and it isn't until the telepath moves her hand to rest against her own until Susan realizes what she's doing and pulls away.

"I'm sorry," Talia breathes, "I shouldn't take advantage of your kindness."

Susan's face screws up into confusion. "I'm the one that kissed you," she argues, "this is a hell of a time for role-reversal, don't you think?"

After a moment, Talia smiles and Susan isn't sure if that means she ought to kiss her again. She watches as the other woman stands up from the kitchenette chair, nearly meeting her own height. They've stopped touching, and for the first time Susan isn't quite sure how to feel about that.

"I can't ask you to trust me," Talia says. "I'm not even really sure if I've earned it, but maybe," and she reaches out her hand, nearly touching Susan's lips, the taste of her still lingering there, "just, for a little while? No strings, no promises."

Susan takes a breath, realizing this is her final chance for escape; all she needs to do is take that single step back and keep her distance from the telepath, just as she's been struggling to from the first day they'd met. She wouldn't have to risk anything, _everything_ she was ever taught_._

She moves forward and reaches for Talia's hand, placing it against the open collar of her uniform, feeling the heat rise underneath her palm.

"A little while."


End file.
